Gryffindor's Angel: REVISED
by MysteriousAnonymous
Summary: Hermione Granger has never let anybody get in the way of her grade. Not even if she's partnered with Malfoy. For a month. When it takes an unexpected turn, will love blossom? UNFINISHED. PM ME IF YOU WANT TO ADOPT IT.
1. Bad days

The annoying noise of her alarm clock punctured her dream like a sharp silver knife. BRRRRRRIIIIIINNGGGGG! Ugh. She rolled over, slamming her hand down on the snooze button.

Darn alarm.

It had been a good dream too...forgetting her dream, she crawled out of bed and promptly discovered that Crookshanks had cat-barfed a hairball all over her brand-new uniform that she had laid out to wear for today.

She then kicked her wardrobe.

Hard.

Ending in a VERY stubbed toe.

Soon after she had found another uniform (one that was a bit too short as well...), ran a brush through her frizz, all while screaming curses at thin air, she found Parvati smirking at her (in her utterly _gorgeous_ uniform), leaning all too casually against the scarlet hangings draped around her bed.

"WHAT?" she demanded.

"Oh, nothing of importance," Parvati replied coolly, with a smirk worthy of a Slytherin gracing her elegant features.

"Fine, then." she spat back. "If you have nothing better to d- WIPE THAT STUPID GRIN OFF YOUR FACE!"

"Of course. I'll just go down to the Great Hall and leave you and Lav-Lav in peace," the Indian said airily, sauntering down the spiral staircase in her beautifully accessorized outfit.

Rolling her eyes, she looked over at 'Lav-Lav', who, at the moment, was posting another picture of her _dearest_ Ronald(with lots of lipstick prints) up on the wall. Honestly. Lavender, with her perfect blondness and picturesque blue eyes, could be a bit obsessive. Maybe. Just a little.

"Merlin!" Lavender giggled girlishly. "Darling, we _must_ do something with that bedhead of yours!" she said. "How on_ Earth_ do you expect to impress _anyone_ with that getup?"

"I have other focuses in my life. Ones that don't involve GUYS, for your information."

Fleeing Gryffindor Tower, she crashed into the Slytherin Prince himself, with his ridiculous little followers behind him. Her books were thrown up into the air, and her papers floated silently down onto the stone floor.

Hermione Granger's day was _not_ starting out well.

* * *

"Hello, Granger," drawled Draco Malfoy, leaning against the wall in an imitation of Parvati's earlier pose, looking extremely bored.

Malfoy. How she wanted to smack him. Again. Like that time in third year. Prick. Trying to be as quick as possible, she bent down to retrieve her schoolwork.

"Gryffindor's angel, kneeling before me," he sniffed. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Shut up, ferret," Hermione nearly screamed, flying to her feet, and throwing her books  
at his head as hard as she could.

His quick Seeker skills aided him here, as he plucked them out of the air and waved them at her. "Naughty, naughty, mudblood," he said nonchalantly, "You should really learn to control that temper of yours, Granger." He tossed the books to Goyle, who shoved them into his bags. "I'd hold them myself, you know, but I already need to wash my hands and robes. I don't want to have to burn my bag too," Malfoy said, his silver eyes piercing hers.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione peered over Malfoy's shoulder. "Hello, Professor McGonagall!" she called.

"That worked on me once before, Granger, remember? Fourth year, Professor Mood-"

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing?" The severe voice of Minerva McGonagall punctured his cold drawl.

"Nothing, professor."

McGonagall replied cooly with, "Ten points from Slytherin. Now, Mr. Malfoy, the truth?"

"We were just joking..." He stammered, almost whispering.

Her harsh tone cut across his, "Then give Miss Granger back her books and go down to the Great Hall."

"Yes, professor."

A very Slytherin-like smirk curled around Hermione's lips. Snatching her books from Crabbe, who was holding them out to her sheepishly, she said to herself: Go Professor!

However, the moment her head of house turned the corner, the Malfoy brushed past her, whispering, "Nice skirt, Gryffindork."

Blushing red, she looked down at her skirt. An inch shorter than school standards...shoot. That cat-barf on her perfectly sized uniform was back to haunt her. She couldn't lengthen it, they weren't allowed to use magic outside the classroom.

Looking back up at Malfoy, she spat,"I find it odd that you, of all people, would notice."

He reddened ever so slightly, but replied with,"At least I don't have spiky ginger cat hairs on my uniform. I'm above that."


	2. Who says they can't get worse?

**To PrideIsArrogance: Thank you for my first review! You know...ever? Anyway, sorry if she's a bit OOC, its kinda my first story. **

Rushing into class, she laid her books onto her usual table, and instantly looked up at the board, and her jaw dropped.

_The Potion Project:_

_We will be having partners, ones from the other house. I will be matching students based on their abilities. This project will last about a month._

Hermione sighed. Schoolwork she could handle. Being paired with a Slytherin she might not be able to handle, but she would try. Bad days always fix themselves, right?

Slughorn walked into the room, with a long list in one hand.

"Hello," he said jovially. "I take it you have all read the board?"

At that moment, half of the eyes in the classroom flicked to the board.

"Wonderful." Slughorn said. "Your partners...Mr. Potter, Miss Parkinson."

Hermione peered across the table to Harry. He looked a bit sick.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Bulstrode."

If she thought _HARRY_ felt sick, Ron looked positively awful, and a bit green.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger..."

She could _not _have heard that right. His voice droned on, but her mind remained there. What? Malfoy? She got _Malfoy_? Suspected Death Eater? Awful person? The one who tortured her from first year on up? Well, she could do this. Right. Keep telling yourself that, 'Mione.

"We will be making the Polyjuice potion. Each group will have to work together, and whichever group does the best on this assignment will receive a little bit of Felix here."

She knew she could do this. She made Polyjuice in second year! It would work. As long as the Ferret cooperated, there was no reason why she shouldn't be able to get her O, and **earn** that liquid luck…Unlike Harry, who would use that infernal book of his.

"Please find your partner now and move all of your materials over to them."

Soon, a staggering Hermione was balancing all of the ingredients, scales, and her potion book, tripped over to Draco Malfoy, who was leaning back on his chair legs, looking bored out of his mind. She was soon fed up with her balancing act, and said,

"Well?"

"Well, what, Granger?" his aristocratic drawl annoyed her to no ends.

"A little help might be nice," she replied.

His front chair legs fell to the floor with a loud bang. "Helping a woman would be acceptable, but one of blood so dirty it fouls the very ground she walks on? Absolutely not."

It was going to be a long month.

Draco's POV

So I'm paired with the mudblood. The one who looked like she had never seen a brush until the Yule ball and then promptly managed to lose it again right after.

Bugger.

Maybe she, the workaholic that she is, will do all the work for me. Then, I'll scrape my O and not have to do any work at all. Perfect plan. Now, I'll use reverse sie-col-o-gee or some sort of Muggle trickery to fool her into thinking that it's a bad plan so that she'll think it's a good plan and use it.

Yup. I can do nothing for the whole month!

This way, I'll can have more work time in the Room of Requirement on that stupid Vanishing Cabinet that's being such an annoying little...

Argh. It will take a while, but in the end, it'll all be worth it. Nobody will die, I'll have a form of approval...

And Granger will be off my back.

MmHmm, this will all work out perfectly.

_In here, maybe..._ hissed his mind.

_FINE! maybe only in here! But eventually it'll all be worth it! _he cried back to his mind.

_what was that quote? Oh, right... 'famous last words.'_

How stupid am I? Having a chat...with MYSELF!

Granger's shrill voice punctured his thought-bubble.

"Well?"

Shocked out of his peaceful reverie, he quickly replied, "Well, what, Granger?"

"A little help might be nice," she spat.

At that moment, he noticed that she was holding a slowly tumbling pile of potions supplies. Brought back to Earth, his chair legs fell to the ground.

"Helping a woman would be acceptable, but one of blood so dirty it fouls the very ground she walks on? Absolutely not," perfect, you idiot, make her hate you even more.

The girl stumbled over and slammed all of her stuff down on his once-peaceful table.

"Well, I'm sorry that I want a GOOD GRADE!"

"_I'm_ glad you finally admitted that it is a thing of shame."

He saw her gasp like a beached fish.

One month of free time coming up.


	3. More Potions

**Hello, all of you wonderful people who have reviewed and/or story alerted! I feel greatly honored.**

They were a day in.

She was almost looking forward to Potions. Almost.

If only they could go a minute without bickering...

Lacewing flies needed to stew for 21 days, and needed to be stirred in an exact figure-eight pattern, counter-clockwise. Malfoy had offered to help, but had stirred clockwise. It was a thing, in her opinion, punishable by death. Or being expelled, which was much, much, worse.

Malfoy was kinda handsome, she supposed, while waiting for the stairs to swing her way again, but his insufferable attitude sorta canceled that out, leaving him good-looking and arrogantly bratty.

Not a good combo.

She sighed. Again.

In the painting of several drunk monks, she saw them look over at her tipsily, and Violet, the Fat Lady's friend, giggled and poured herself a bit more of the five hundred year old wine.

Ron, who had finally unclogged himself from the human drainpipe, nearly crawled over, with Harry in tow.

"Hello, Hermione," said Harry. "How's your project going? Mine is going well, the Pri-"

"Harry! You know how much I despise that stupid book!" she cried.

"Mione, Millicent is murdering me slowly..." whimpered Ron.

"Oh, go to your precious girlfriend, Won-Won. I don't want to hear it."

She felt tired and annoyed. How could Ron be so blind? But it was clear to her that Ron wanted nothing more that friendship, so harboring feelings for Dra- ahem...MALFOY shouldn't mean anything, right?

Wait...did she almost say his name? Like, his real name?

I'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmad she chorused in her head.

This should not be happening.

Ever.

I'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmad ...

Draco's POV

Potions. Yippee.

Granger is being insufferable. I tried helping her stir, to be a nice person or some such thing, but apparently I did something wrong, so she snatched back the stirrer thing and began stirring her way.

Girls. Never will understand them.

Wait... did I just call Herm-GRANGER a girl? As in a human being? As in actually having feelings? And did I actually start to say her name? As in not her surname or mudblood or something?

Bugger.

I'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmadI'mgoingmad...

Together. In potions. This was a recipe for disaster!

Still stirring the lacewings, she had sent Dra-MALFOY, MALFOY, MALFOY!

Ahem.

Over to get the boomslang skin, leeches, powdered bicorn horn, and all the rest of their ingredients. He couldn't botch up chopping, could he?

Obviously, she had overestimated him.

He was looking very puzzled.

"I've never done this before, Granger. I have people to do it for me," he half-whispered, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I would do it," she replied coldly, "but I don't want you ruining the perfectly stirred flies."

"I tried to help-"

"You stirred the WRONG WAY!"

A look of dawning flashed over his icy eyes. "Was that it? Ohhhh."

"Merlin, Malfoy! We're never going to finish! Look at Harry and Pansy! They're already at the ideal stage!"

Malfoy shot a look at her. "Maybe," he said quietly, "We could get things done if you showed me how to help."

Draco's POV

Perfect. Reverse psychology (HaHa! Muggle studies finally came in handy!) is working just right.

Herm-GRANGER, GRANGER, GRANGER!

Is yelling at me. I, ever humble, am pretending to look abashed and sorrowful.

Hm...I'll wait for this month to finish...

* * *

_Hermione's POV_

She could not get to sleep. She had heard Pansy after Potions, claiming that "her Draco" had a crush on her.

"He's hankering after a filthy, dirt veined MUGGLE!"

Hermione, sad, hurt, and angry, rushed outside and sat down on her favorite bench, face tucked in her scarf, she remembered the days where, if someone told her that in a few years, she would be going to a school for wizards, she would have called them crazy.

_Hermione's eleventh birthday was quite a milestone for her. It marked her leaving fifth grade and going on to bigger and better things. However, she didn't know exactly how big._

_She was celebrating with her parents, but the dentists that they were, they refused to let her have any candy. She didn't mind, because the next morning, she always found the drawer in her bureau had a sugar-free lollipop or bit of fair-trade chocolate in it. So she ate it, assuming that they had put it there overnight._

_But a far more strange answer had just arrived on her doorstep. _

_Her father called up, "Angel, there's a man here to speak to you."_

_Rushing into the kitchen, she saw an aged, wizened looking old man, with a kind smile and half-moon spectacles. But the strangest thing was his outfit. He was wearing robes. Blue robes with thousands of twinkling stars on them._

_Her mother, determined to keep things natural, said, "He's here to discuss some sort of scholarship! Isn't that right... erm... sorry, never caught your name."_

_The aged man folded his hands and said, "My name is Professor Dumbledore..."_

And then, everything changed.

Draco's POV

I went outside after potions. I, number one, love misty drizzles, because everything smells fresh, new and clean, like Mother Nature is washing the Earth. Number two, it was free period.

Oh, and number three, I saw the muggleborn witch run out there looking rather heartbroken.

So maybe I was being a _little_ deluded. Possibly.

_Running from your feelings, more like,_ spat the annoying little voice in the back of his head.

Shut UP!

_Fine. Be that way. Did you see Pansy in that corridor?_

Duh! We're the same person!

_She was being a right bitch, wasn't she?_

Of course! Besides, Granger's not a muggle!

_Pansy's an idiot. Why do you like her?_

I don't like her! We both know that.

_Yup. I am you. You are me. We know each other._

Okay, that made no sense.

_Maybe it didn't._

Whatever.

_Look at her. Looks like she had a scarred past too, right?_

Maybe...

Four whole weeks of free time, four whole weeks of free time.

_Stupid cabinet. It's just taunting me now. Everything I put in it comes out broken. Ruined._

_Like me._

_When I was young, my father brought me into Muggle London. "Daddy," I said, "Why are those people dressed so funny?"_

_"Because they're Muggles, son. They're bad. Stay close to me."_

_Father taught me that Muggles were dirt, and so were witches and wizards that were born as such. And I believed him. Why did I believe him? _

_I knew that as fact, until I got to Hogwarts. Then I met her. Even though I discovered she had brown blood, she never seemed to know that she was worse than the stuff on the bottom of my shoe. She held her head high and almost commanded respect. _

_Trying to show her that she was even lesser than our house-elf, Dobby, normally ended in me hurt, not her having a sudden epiphany. By then, I just watched her from across the hall. The Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die and The Weasel really didn't know what they had on their hands. She was pretty(after she shrunk her teeth), smart, kind, and very...um... I'm not finishing that sentence._

_Now that I'm a Death Eater, I'm pretty sure our Exalted Leader, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, ought to be knocked down. He is a half-blood, right?_

_Bugger. Now I'll have to erase all my childhood notions and start from scratch._


	4. PM me if you want to adopt this story

Hello, all. Sorry about my extended vacation from this fic. I'm sooooooo sorry, but...I am no longer writing fan fictions. I'm doing fiction press now. If you want to read some of that, look me up under the same username at fictionpress . com (remove spaces)

I know, I deserve to die. I am so sorry for all of you who have been waiting eagerly for my next update...but you can send in an application type form-y thing if you want to adopt it as a review or a PM. If I do choose you to continue my story, please acknowledge me. :)

Have a great day!

:D


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